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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756188">Dragons Don't Talk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamaThorn/pseuds/RamaThorn'>RamaThorn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Muteness, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Talkative Draco, but also fluff i promise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:55:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamaThorn/pseuds/RamaThorn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry can't talk, Hermione soon will have a nervous breakdown, Ron's just confused and Draco has some illwishers (and talks a lot).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>455</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dragons Don't Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Enormous thank you to my amazing beta (and a good friend)  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingd0g/pseuds/laughingd0g">laughingd0g</a><br/>! She made a fabulous job and I'm so-so thankful! You're just amazing! Can't probably write all of my compliments here without it becoming unbearably sappy. Just thank you. And guys, go check out her podfics and subscribe for coming fics!!!<br/>The cover art done by... me:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Harry was sick of it. He simply couldn't do it anymore. And he knew it wasn't doing him any good but, against his better judgment, he just wanted everyone to back off. He was sick of the "you-need-to-talk-about-it"s and the "you-should-share-with-us-Harry"s and the "we're-your-best-friends-don't-you-trust-us"s. Of course he trusted them. His two best friends meant a world to him; they’d literally gone to hell and back together. He trusted them with his life. But just couldn't bring himself to say a single meaningful word.</p><p>He hadn't told them about what had happened on the other side. It had done things to him, and he didn't want to make it real by saying it aloud. His friends worried enough about him. He liked to remind himself that this was what strong people did - they cared for others, not for themselves.</p><p>"...Harry? Are you listening?" Hermione's tentative voice broke through.</p><p>"Of course." He wasn’t, actually.</p><p>He focused his full attention on her. She had an expression on her face he was becoming used to more and more. Her mouth was turned down slightly at the corners with exasperation or concern, Harry couldn’t really tell. Her pleasant brown eyes glittered with sympathy and her brows were furrowed. She obviously had something to say, maybe even snap at him because, really, for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t the first time she had asked him if he was listening at all and he lied that yes, “of course.” But she never snapped at him these days. Instead there was a lot of understanding and concern and sympathy, and Harry hated it.</p><p>She sighed patiently. “I was talking about the next year at Hogwarts. We have only a week left, you do realise that?” Harry blinked at her rather stupidly. She rolled her eyes. “I told you already...”</p><p>Hermione abruptly stopped and shot a quick almost apologetic glance at him. Harry could feel the irritation rising from the deep of his throat. He knew she meant well, but he didn’t need her careful handling. He was strong. He’d killed bloody Voldemort, hadn’t he?</p><p>“Hermione, I—“ He didn’t really know what to say, he never did these days. He sighed. “It’s okay. How’s Ron?”</p><p>It was the wrong thing to say. Ron was dealing with his own crisis and it was hard to blame him. All of the Weasleys were mourning after Fred still, and Ron wasn’t taking it easy. He spent a lot of time with his family, trying to figure out the new painful way of living. A lump still formed in Harry’s throat every time he thought of Fred. But he didn’t dare to come to Weasleys. He knew he didn’t really belong there, at least for the time being. Hermione felt the same, he was sure of it, even if they hadn’t talked about it.</p><p>Her shoulders lowered and her gaze turned away from Harry’s. Yes, it was the wrong subject to bring up. The silence stretched on, obviously agreeing with him, mockingly filling his ears and pushing in with sickening thickness.</p><p>“He... It will be... I think I’d better go and start to pack my trunk, you know. One week will be over sooner than you know, it's always like that before something...” She stood. “I’d better go. Have a nice evening and don’t forget to start packing.”</p><p>He nodded and stood to walk her to the Floo, feeling exhausted and stiff with regret. Their tea hadn’t even cooled yet.</p><p>She turned to him at the entrance to the Floo.</p><p>“I’m meeting with Ron tomorrow and I don’t know when we’ll meet later. I’ll owl you as soon as I can. Will you be okay?”</p><p>Harry smiled a little, more to reassure her than because he wanted to. Guilt flamed to life in his stomach. He couldn’t even smile properly to his best friend who’d been worrying about him.</p><p>“Of course, ‘Mione, I’ll be just fine.” He met her gaze stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>She nodded, a little hesitant, but then nodded again and smiled a little, coming to hug him fast and tight. He hugged her back with real gratitude this time. The vaguely fruit smell of her hair in his face was reassuring as always, and dearly familiar.</p><p>Then the green flames swallowed her away, and Harry was allowed to stare at nothing in particular for as long as he wanted and no one would ask him if he was listening or not. He let his thoughts wander.</p><p>The shadows of Grimmauld Place looked down at him from the dark corners, breathing disapproval and strange quiet knowing.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p><br/>
The platform was as busy as ever. Harry found it suffocating. He tried not to look at his friends. Ron was visibly exhausted but tried not to show it. His freckles were a wild spattering of paint stains on his cheeks and nose, his back was rounded as if he carried a heavy weight on his shoulders, which was all more noticeable because of his height. Hermione appeared strong and collected but Harry couldn't help but notice how she leaned closer to Ron, either in support of him or in an attempt to find solid ground herself. At least they didn't talk. Harry wasn't sure if he could manage a steady voice.</p><p>The Hogwarts Express released its first blasting whistle along with a billow of steam. It was comfortingly familiar, one of the first truly magical moments of Harry's life. He closed his eyes as the sound died out. Hermione liked to say that it was a second chance, a new beginning. Harry felt like he might throw up from thoughts of Hogwarts; he remembered all too well the exploding hallways and the Great Hall full of bodies that he couldn't save.</p><p>It was cruel, asking them to return, but he was strong. He was strong. Strong.</p><p>Someone touched his hand and Harry jerked sharply in surprise. Ron was looking at him with understanding.</p><p>"C'mon, Harry, let's go find an empty compartment." He didn't smile and Harry thought he otherwise would have.</p><p>He nodded and they headed for the nearest entrance in the train. The crowd parted and quieted as they made their way through.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Hogwarts seems the same but feels different.”</p><p>“Hmhm.”</p><p>“I really don’t know how hard it must be for the younger children that witnessed the battle last May...”</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“I think the school will absolutely need a mind healer this year, just for some therapy. It's always a good thing, you know, Harry?”</p><p>Harry nodded, not at all listening to what Hermione was talking about on their way to the castle in the carriages. His mind was dizzyingly empty, flitting from one thought to another. Some trees were damaged. The blue twilight looked cold and beautiful. The thestrals looked the same as ever — a little bit dead, a little bit mournful. The sound of the squeaking carriages soothed his raw nerves. Harry was almost certain Hermione’s voice was part of it.</p><p>He didn’t talk all the way to the castle. Ron walked by his side, looking a little sick himself. Hermione chatted the entire way, but Harry recognised her nervousness. She and Ron were holding hands.</p><p>Harry didn’t say anything. The leaves above his head whispered encouragingly.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As soon as they walked into the Great Hall, the sick feeling rose to the top of his stomach and the ringing in his ears grew louder. Everything went fuzzy and blurred, and Harry kept his head low, keeping close to Ron and Hermione. The Great Hall was all in warm colours, but Harry shivered. Everything seemed so familiar, but he wanted to be out as soon as possible. Everything was home except Harry was going to throw up.</p><p>He didn’t hear a word Professor McGonagall said. Headmistress McGonagall. Frankly, there were hardly any first year students this time. Maybe a few joined their table, but Harry hadn’t paid attention to the sorting. After a short time, he watched in a haze as the feast appeared before them, and at this sight his stomach rolled and clenched painfully. Somewhere to his left Ron reached for something and hesitated before helping himself to the smallest portion Harry had ever seen him put on the plate. He was pretty sure Hermione wasn’t eating either.</p><p>At some point during the feast, Harry felt someone sit down close to him. He jerked back out of nothing and turned. It was Ginny, with much shorter hair and tired eyes, as warm and familiar as ever. She smiled at him timidly and turned back to the food, filling her plate. Harry realised he hadn’t even noticed her. The uncomfortable thought at the very back of his mind said, ‘<em>You forgot about her</em>.’ Which wasn’t true.</p><p>“Hey Ginny, where have you been?” asked Hermione.</p><p>Ginny looked at her with a tired smile.</p><p>“Hi Hermione. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. One of the girls from my year almost fainted as we got close to the castle. I had to go with her to Madam Pomfrey.” Ginny dropped her eyes. “Her sister died in the battle.”</p><p>There was an understanding pause and Harry almost smiled bitterly. Yeah, that’s what it was. Almost all of them felt the presence of grief, hiding between the lines spoken and looks thrown at each other. The usually cheerful atmosphere of the first Feast was ever so slightly off. The grey enchanted sky shimmered in confusion at the students.</p><p>Suddenly for no apparent reason Harry glanced at the Slytherin table. Very few students sat at it, Harry realised. The younger years sat close together at one side of the table, not raising their heads. The half a dozen older students were spread across the table in twos and threes. One blond head drew Harry’s eyes. Malfoy sat near Zabini with his head low, not eating either. Harry vaguely thought that he especially shouldn’t be here.</p><p>As if sensing Harry’s eyes on him, Malfoy raised his head and unerringly found Harry. His blond hair was longer and messier than Harry had ever seen it, one lock covering his left eye almost completely. Malfoy scowled at him, raising his chin higher and sitting straighter. Harry blinked. He hadn’t realised how hunched over he himself was sitting. He straightened too and tried to scowl back. Malfoy grimaced and turned to Zabini dismissively.</p><p>But the thing was, Harry felt inexplicably, strangely better than he’d felt in weeks. So many things were familiar here, so many faces and details and yet, for some reason, Malfoy raising his pointy chin and scowling at him across the Hall felt almost comforting in a way Ginny’s eyes next to him weren’t.</p><p>Harry was definitely going mad.</p><p>“So, Hermione, any ideas about our schedule?” Harry asked, voice a little rough, turning to her.</p><p>Hermione blinked a few times. She then smiled with relief that Harry didn’t want to acknowledge was there.</p><p>“Well, yes,” she started a bit smugly, “actually, I was corresponding with McGonagall for a bit and she told me that this year all eighth years will have additional projects as well as our regular classes. I don’t know for certain what it will be but I’m excited! And…”</p><p>Even if Harry glanced a few times more at the Slytherin table, he would deny everything.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>All the eighth years now shared a common room. That discovery wasn’t met very warmly. Although, Harry felt a bit grateful because that gave Ron something to fuss about and he became more like his usual self for a bit.</p><p>“You’re my girlfriend, ‘Mione, aren’t you supposed to, you know,” Ron was muttering to Hermione, offended, “<em>tell me things</em>?!”</p><p>She only waved a hand at him, amusement apparent in her small smile she tried to hide.</p><p>“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise is all!”</p><p>Ron threw up his hands in the air, staring at her incredulously.</p><p>“Do you <em>like</em> it or something?”</p><p>“Not really, but I do think that is a good <em>idea</em>,” she raised her voice a bit at the end as she usually did when explaining something painfully obvious.</p><p>“<em>Why</em>?” Ron began to flush slightly from all the arguing, and Harry noticed that there was hardly any colour to him these days. “There’re Slytherins!”</p><p>Not a lot, Harry thought. From their year there were Zabini, a girl with dark hair Harry didn’t know, a boy which Harry vaguely recalled as Theodor Nott. And Malfoy, of course. He didn’t think it would be so hard even if he would be unlucky to get one of them as a roommate, there would be still a lot of his friends and people he knew around.</p><p>Hermione grew serious and started a tirade about how they needed to keep together, how the house system wasn’t really great and how they needed something new after all that everyone had been through. Ron looked more regretful with every minute, which was probably because he started the argument in the first place.</p><p>Harry looked around their new common room. It was smaller than their old one and there was no particular main colour. Instead, there were little things from all houses, like a couple of circular canary yellow couches, some trophies in emerald green right above the enormous fireplace made with beautiful red intertwined grape leaves within the stone walls and, finally, at the very centre of the ceiling was a big circular pane of glass to see the sky above. The majority of furniture was in warm wooden shades, the thick carpet was dark with chocolatey stripes as a pattern, there were arches near the ceiling and a fancy chandelier. Their dorm was in the East tower, so the windows and the views weren’t really different from what Harry was used to.</p><p>Harry decided he liked it fine. There were a few students here talking in small groups, but the majority had already gone to their dorms. A parchment floated near each entrance with the rooms and names. Harry and Ron hadn’t yet gone to see if they were in one room and who they’d be rooming with. A shiver of anticipation ran through Harry.</p><p>He hadn’t even noticed how Ron and Hermione stopped arguing (of course there was more lecturing than anything for the last minutes) and now Ron was whispering something to her quietly. She nodded and then briefly squeezed Ron’s hand when he stepped back.</p><p>“Ok, I’ll see you in the morning.” She smiled at them and headed to the girl’s dormitory to the right.</p><p>Ron glanced at Harry and grinned uncertainly but reassuringly.</p><p>“So, let’s go and see which bastards we’re going to live with for the rest of the year!”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Of course it was Malfoy. Because it was Harry’s life, how could it not be him? At least Ron would still be with him Although, Ron didn’t seem really happy about it. He moaned loudly and broke into an angry tirade about his luck and damned blond gits. Harry couldn’t help but feel better at that; at this pace, Ron would soon be his old self again. They would be sharing their room with Neville and a Hufflepuff, Wayne Hopkins, with whom Harry never spoke before.</p><p>Harry himself didn’t know how to feel about Malfoy in their room. He wasn’t as angry as Ron was, that was for sure. He could say he didn’t really care that much but… Harry shook his head, he wasn’t going to think about it. He stopped on the thought that he just didn’t like Malfoy still and that was it. They were climbing up the stairs, Ron still muttering to himself.</p><p>They reached their room just as Malfoy was leaving it, the look on his face full of challenge when he caught the sight of them. Harry and Ron stopped. Ron stiffened and opened his mouth to say something but hesitated when Malfoy slipped his eyes to Harry.</p><p>The hallway was rather dark and the emotion behind his eyes wasn’t clear. Harry stared back with a strange fascination of waiting to see what would happen next. Ron glanced at him and then back at Malfoy.</p><p>Malfoy’s blond hair glowed faintly under the line of light seeping out from the slight gap between their door and a wall. It was golden.</p><p>Then Ron spoke.</p><p>“Do you need something, Ferret, or gonna finally fuck off?”</p><p>Malfoy startled as though he’d forgotten Ron was still there, then he glared at him.</p><p>“How am I going to ‘fuck off’ if your weasel face is right in my way?” he said in an ugly tone. Harry had forgotten how ugly it could be. Malfoy scowled and moved to pass them.</p><p>“Wanna fight, Ferret?” Ron’s face was red with anger. Harry grabbed him by the elbow as Malfoy brushed past.</p><p>“You try,” he sneered at Ron, and this close Harry could see a glint in his grey eyes. Then Malfoy was past them without meeting Harry’s gaze, and Harry couldn’t help but catch a bit of his smell in the air stirred by his movement. It smelled mostly like nothing, but with a bit of something sharp and overall almost pleasing. Harry immediately tried to forget the thought.</p><p>Ron muttered something as he stormed into the room. Harry breathed in deep and went after him, thinking, ‘What the actual fuck?’</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The Hufflepuff guy, Wayne, seemed nice. He had dark blond hair, a big nose, and heavy glasses. He looked at Harry with wide eyes, not saying anything to him, and Harry was thankful for that. Neville was familiar and great to talk to, or, rather, listen to as he told Harry all about his new fascination with a species of plants they we’re going to learn about this year. Harry smiled and nodded along, grateful Neville didn’t expect him to say anything.</p><p>They didn’t see a lot of Malfoy. After a few days it became apparent that he tried to spend as little time in the room as possible, waking up at sunrise and coming in the evening late as they slept. It was impossible to tell that he lived here at all if not for the trunk half hidden under the bed and his name written on the parchment near the door. Harry knew he was here though.</p><p>He often couldn’t sleep for hours and then at some point the door would open silently and there would come soft footsteps as Malfoy made straight for his bed and shut the curtains. Harry stared into the inky darkness above, breathing deep as his thoughts buzzed. When Malfoy came and his breath went quiet with sleep, everything would become quiet in his head. Harry could finally sleep.</p><p>The nights repeated like that for some time.</p><p>Everything had fallen into a routine once classes started. Ron seemed like his old self most of the time. Sometimes, though, Harry noticed his thoughtful and distant looks or the gentle ones he directed at Hermione, or the slightly worried ones when he looked at Harry. They hadn’t been there before. Hermione tried to hold them together as hard as she could, acting excited and talking Harry into conversations. Harry smiled at her and Harry smiled at her because, even if her efforts did sometimes wear on his nerves, he was grateful for her efforts. He had good friends.</p><p>Then, as he lay in the darkness, exhausted after all the smiles and thankful feelings, he let the inner darkness match the one above him. Then he would wait until Malfoy came. ‘I can’t sleep anyway’, he thought. ‘I don’t care if he comes, why should I care, I don’t.’ Then he waited for the soft opening of the door, anyway.</p><p>Sometimes, he watched Malfoy in the Great Hall across the tables. Malfoy often looked back, frowning from time to time or scowlingor sneering for no reason, and Harry would grimace in return, feeling slightly better for some reason.</p><p>And after he would wait for the soft opening of the door in the dead of the night.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Something changed after a couple of weeks. Harry didn’t notice at first, but as he lay in bed with no desire to sleep, he sensed the night stretching. The door did not click open. He didn’t think much of it; it wasn’t like he had a clock and a right time for Malfoy to come. And the night moved especially slow. He lay there and thought of the darkness beyond the room.</p><p>After some time, the door finally clicked open. Against his better judgement, Harry felt relieved. But something was wrong. Harry didn’t see anything, but he’d listened to Malfoy coming in enough to know what he normally sounded like. And this time, his breathing was all wrong, shallow and slightly strangled as though he was trying to keep it as quiet as possible. He took a couple of steps and then stumbled. There was a thud of a body crashing into the carpet.</p><p>“Fuck, fuck,” Malfoy muttered under his breath.</p><p>Harry’s first thought was that he was drunk, but he didn’t sound drunk. He sounded like he was in pain. The fall couldn’t be that bad, Harry thought. He wanted to turn his head and look through the curtain. He didn’t move.</p><p>Malfoy stood after a couple of seconds and there came a familiar tumbling into the bed. Then everything was quiet.</p><p>Harry didn’t fall asleep as fast as he usually did.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Harry noticed the little things after that. He would watch Malfoy across the Great Hall at breakfast and catch how he flinched when standing up, rubbing his chest briefly. In potions class, he sometimes bit his lip while stirring; his hands shook when he chopped the ingredients; he fled the classroom as soon as Slughorn dismissed them for the day.</p><p>Harry didn’t see Malfoy anywhere aside from the Great Hall and the classroom.</p><p>“Does Malfoy study in the library?” he asked Hermione in the common room. She was reading a charms textbook and startled in the chair, looking up. Harry realised he hadn’t talked since the morning.</p><p>“Well, yes,” she told him, unsure. “I saw him a few times. Why?”</p><p>Harry looked into the flames dancing in the fireplace. Why? He didn’t know why.</p><p>“Can I come with you next time?”</p><p>Hermione blinked at him, puzzled. “Er— Sure, Harry, of course…”</p><p>Harry threw her a smile before returning his gaze to the fire. He thought he felt just for a second the deadly heat and choking smoke and hands around him holding so tight, another chest pressed to his back. The fire continued to crackle softly in the fireplace, its light flickering over the engraving of red shimmering grape leaves.</p><p>When Harry and Hermione came to the library the next afternoon, Malfoy wasn’t there.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>They were going from the DADA down to the Great Hall for lunch, Ron chatting away to Hermione about the lesson and how hungry he was, when Harry noticed an open classroom. It was one of the abandoned ones, judging by the dusty door and a dim light that was visible just so through the gap in the door. Harry paused. After a couple of steps Ron stopped mid-sentence and looked back, frowning.</p><p>“Harry? You okay?”</p><p>Harry just stared at the door; in the new silence he thought he heard some noise. He moved a touch closer. From the corner of his vision, he could see Ron and Hermione exchange a look. They stepped up to him with serious expressions the next moment.</p><p>Harry reached the door. He swore he heard hushed voices. He couldn’t decipher what they said, but they didn’t sound kind. He grabbed the old handle, swinging the door open.</p><p>The classroom was empty. The windows were boarded up and little light reached the dusty tables. In the deep shadows of the corners, Harry could see there was nothing except for a few old cabinets, half-broken and loaded with glass jars. He didn’t like this room.</p><p>Ron and Hermione appeared by his side.</p><p>“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked quietly.</p><p>Harry hesitated. He could swear he heard voices. He scanned the room one more time carefully, frowning. Something felt off but he couldn’t say what and he wasn’t sure he wanted to worry his friends more.</p><p>Finally, he shook his head and turned back.</p><p>“Thought I heard something,” he told them and closed the door.</p><p>He would come back later and investigate. He felt a rush of excitement and curiosity at the possibility of having something to investigate. Ron and Hermione didn’t ask as they continued the way.</p><p>Harry watched an empty seat at the Slytherin table for the whole duration of lunch, something tight in the pit of his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>He returned to that classroom in the evening after dinner. He told Ron and Hermione that he was going to the dorm early. They hadn’t seemed concerned. Harry suspected they wanted some time together. He didn’t mind.</p><p>The hallways were mostly empty, bathed in the dim blue light from the windows and the many little warm ones from the torches on the walls. Everything was blurry at the edges and Harry liked it. His quiet steps echoed off stone, the portraits murmuring something to each other. The castle felt so familiar and welcoming. It looked fondly at Harry from the tall ceilings and arches, the stone walls and flickering fires, from its deep shadows in the corners. He let himself walk a bit slower, liking the feeling. It felt like he was looked for, cared for.</p><p>All too soon he rounded the corner and found himself in the right hallway. He waved his wand to silence his steps and moved farther. The door wasn’t open this time and Harry felt a bit disappointed. He stood in front of it. He wished he had the Extendable Ears with him as he movedto lean his not so extendable one to the door. He waited for a bit and then heard something again.</p><p>Voices. They were harsh and then there was something like laughter. Harry tried hard to decipher them but the door was too thick. Then he suddenly heard a yelp and after that more laughter. He frowned.</p><p>Harry moved his head away and tried the handle. When the door didn’t budge, he murmured, “Alahomora,” and it clicked open quietly. He opened the door a tiny bit, trying to see something through the gap. His heart raced.</p><p>The classroom was even darker than the hallway. But a dim blue light glowed in the corner, suggesting Lumos. Harry couldn’t see clearly who it was but at least now he could hear more clearly.</p><p>“…know that. Scum, that’s what you are,” a disgusted voice was saying and Harry froze. He didn’t recognise who it was but judging by the laughter of approval the speaker was not alone. Harry gripped his wand tighter.</p><p>“And what the fuck are scum like you doing in here? Hasn’t your daddy got himself into Azkaban already for messing with us? Wanna follow in his steps, little Death Eater?” There was a shallow thud of a punch, followed by a groan.</p><p>Fuck. It was Malfoy. Harry’s heart skipped a bit. The second person spoke.</p><p>“And he still thinks he’s worthy to even look at Harry Potter! We saw how you looked at him across the Great Hall… You, disgusting little—“ The was a flash of a hex and another yelp.</p><p>Harry pushed the door open with a kick, not really aware that he did it until he found himself staring at the two boys turned at him. They were Gryffindors, sixth or seven year, he wasn’t sure in this light. They were standing in a further corner and Harry couldn’t see their feet behind all the desks but he was sure of what he would find. age pulsed through him.</p><p>“… Harry?” The taller asked hesitantly, glancing at his friend.</p><p>Harry stepped inside, trying to keep his movements slow. These fucking bastards… He heard some movement beside them that caught their attention, and in the next second the taller one shot Harry a relieved grin.</p><p>“Do you wanna join us? I bet you’d like to add a couple of punches at this—”</p><p>Harry raised his wand and threw the first hex that came to mind. It was a quite strong Stinging hex and the boy yelped in surprise, his friend flinching just as badly.</p><p>Harry came closer and stopped several feet before them. He could now see Malfoy, just laying there and not moving. He felt a cold rage going through him in a wave. He looked at the shocked boys.</p><p>“Get out,” he said quietly and almost flinched from the cool steel in his own voice, it sounded raspy from disuse.</p><p>“But—“ the other started, confused, but stopped as Harry raised his wand in warning.</p><p>“Don’t make me repeat myself. If I ever see this shit again, you’ll be out of Hogwarts sooner than you can ‘sorry’, do you understand?” The two boys looked guiltily at each other, and Harry continued, “I didn’t go through all of the trouble of killing Voldemort just to let even more suffering happen in these walls. I’m disgusted to see my house colours on your robes.”</p><p>Harry breathed heavily. He wasn't used to talking this much but now he was holding back a flood of words. His wand hand shook.</p><p>“W-we’re sorry,” the taller said, still holding a hand to his chest where the Stinging hex it him, “we were just—”</p><p>“Get the fuck out,” Harry interrupted, “and don’t come close to him again.”</p><p>They hurried out of the door, stumbling over each other in the doorway. As their echoed steps faded away down the corridor, Harry stepped closer to Malfoy, who was still on the floor. With the bastards gone, the conjured Lumos had vanished, and it was too dark to see anything. Harry murmured the spell and lowered to his knees on the dusty floor.</p><p>Draco was lying on his side, eyes closed and evidently unconscious. His face wasn’t damaged badly except for the split lover lip that sent a trace of blood down his chin. Harry supposed it was because those arseholes didn’t want to leave any obvious traces of their “fun.” Even unconscious, Malfoy’s hands were on his stomach and Harry suspected that had been the main target. Fresh bruises mottled his hands. Harry felt sicker with every second.</p><p>The rage he felt earlier didn’t disappear, but now he wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t think Malfoy would thank him for a trip to the Hospital Wing and raising questions from Madam Pomfrey. Harry suspected no one knew about this. Zabini didn’t seem worried earlier when Malfoy flinched from almost every movement. He was more than sure Malfoy would not like to find out Harry now was the exception. But when had Harry ever cared if Malfoy didn’t like something?</p><p>“Malfoy,” Harry called, trying how far gone he was. Malfoy didn’t budge. “Right…” Harry mumbled, reaching out in an attempt to change his position (he couldn’t just levitate the git in this awkward pose all the way to the Hospital, could he). But as soon as he touched one bony wrist, something shot up his nerves like a small electric shock and Malfoy flinched, opening his eyes and breathing in suddenly. Harry pulled back in surprise.</p><p>Malfoy started coughing and Harry didn’t like the sound of it one bit. He flinched, looked around for some rubbish on the floor. He found an old quill, quickly transfiguring it into a cup and casting an Aguamenti. He held it out to Malfoy, half expecting for him to knock it out of his hands. But he sat up and took it, not looking at Harry. His hands shook violently, spilling some water on the floor. Harry sat back and waited. He had no idea what to say.</p><p>When Malfoy finished he lowered the cup but still didn't look at Harry. Silence stretched for several moments.</p><p>“I think you have to go to Madam Pomfrey,” said Harry quickly. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Malfoy jerked his head to scowl at him.</p><p>“The fuck you know what I have to do, Potter.” His voice was surprisingly level and very cold.</p><p>Harry just looked at him and didn’t say anything. In the wandlight, Malfoy’s features were sharper than usual and that trace of blood didn’t help him look healthy. After a bit Malfoy scoffed and moved to stand up. He staggered on his feet, face grimacing in a painful expression. Harry leapt to his feet and reached out just in time to catch him from falling. The little shock went through him again but weaker this time. Malfoy pushed him away, stumbling back and grasping the nearby desk for support instead.</p><p>“I don’t— need your fucking help,” he panted, face whiter than ever and eyes burning. Harry thought he was just like a ghost in this light, a wild mad ghost. He lowered his hand.</p><p>Malfoy obviously needed some help, even if not from Harry. He was shaking faintly and looking like he might stumble to the ground at any moment. Harry wanted to say that there were no desks to hold on to in the hallways on the way to their dorm. He didn’t.</p><p>Harry looked at Malfoy some more and then a thought came to him.</p><p>“Where’s your wand?” <em>Did those bastards take it?</em> He didn’t add. Malfoy stiffened and looked affronted.</p><p>“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” he barked. It was surprising how spiteful he could be barely standing on his own. Or not at all surprising, when Harry thought about it. Harry tilted his head to the side, not feeling the desire to snap back. He had a feeling he didn’t have to say anything.</p><p>After several long seconds of stubborn silence Malfoy looked away, frowning deeply. Harry didn’t mind the silence that much, he just had a feeling that Malfoy did. Finally, after another bit Malfoy sighed irritably, grimacing.</p><p>“In the dorm with the bag,” he said and it sounded like a challenge. When Harry just frowned in confusion, he sighed again. “What did you think, Potter? That after<em> you</em>,” he looked pointedly at Harry, “didn’t bother to return my old wand, I, what, would go to Ollivander’s and buy myself a nice new one and all would be lovely? Well, too bad, the fucking Ministry gave me this useless piece of wood with tracking charms and all because they didn’t want a little <em>Death Eater</em> like myself walking the halls of this lovely school armed, you see. So yes, my fucking wand is in the dorm because it’s <em>useless</em>.”</p><p>Harry stared. He hadn’t even realized that was a thing. He felt vaguely ashamed that the thought of returning the hawthorn wand hadn’t even crossed his mind. He gave it to the Ministry for safekeeping without a second thought, since he already had his own wand and all. More than anything, he didn’t expect this revelation from Malfoy at all. And judging by the faintly terrified look on his pale face, Malfoy didn’t either.</p><p>“Sorry,” Harry mumbled and looked down at his own wand. After a moment of hesitation he held it up to Malfoy. “I’m not good at healing spells, so you could borrow mine.”</p><p>Malfoy was staring at his wand with wide eyes and mouth a bit open. He didn’t make a move to take it and after a few seconds Harry was starting to feel awkward. Right, so he didn’t need any help, did he. He lowered his outstretched hand a bit. At the movement, Malfoy shook himself minutely and took his wand with a quick movement, as though afraid Harry was going to change his mind. Harry let go and looked Malfoy in the eyes. Malfoy was appraising the wand with a somewhat dumbfounded expression. He dragged his eyes to meet Harry’s and aimed the wand at him with this curious tilt of his head. Harry didn’t flinch. He knew enough about wands to know that his own wouldn’t hurt him. And Malfoy wouldn’t also.</p><p>Harry smiled lazily and Malfoy flinched, frowning.</p><p>“So full of yourself, Potter?” he asked. “I could curse you and then erase your memories.”</p><p>Harry snorted. He’d just run off two witnesses that had seen him staying in this classroom with Malfoy.</p><p>“What curse are you thinking of?” Harry wanted to know. “An Unforgivable?”</p><p>Malfoy shuddered and Harry saw him shaking more.</p><p>“Why not? I’ve cast them, you know, plenty—” Malfoy’s sneering voice broke off, and Harry’s wand shook badly in his hand.</p><p>Harry sympathy rising to his throat. He realised at that moment that Draco was living in the same home as Voldemort. He raised his hand slowly, Malfoy tracking his movement warily, then Harry covered the shaking grip. Malfoy froze, staring at their hands.</p><p>“You have to mean it,” Harry said quietly, bringing the wand closer to his chest. <em>It’s okay</em>, he wanted to say,<em> it’s fine now.</em></p><p>Malfoy swallowed and met Harry’s gaze. He wore a haunted expression, pained and defensive, but after a moment he relaxed a touch and shifted his hand with Harry’s wand towards himself. Harry let him, not letting go for some reason. Malfoy aimed the wand at himself and murmured a spell that filled the dark room with a faint purple glow. A pleasant tingle ran through Harry’s fingers where they were pressed to Malfoy’s hand, magic pulling a little from him in a familiar gentle way. Malfoy sighed with relief, standing straight (Harry hadn’t even realised he was leaning so heavily on the desk). The moment broke when he shook off Harry’s hand with an affected expression of annoyance.</p><p>“Yes, okay, saved me some more, are you waiting for a medal, Potter?” Malfoy grimaced in irritation, maybe a genuine time, Harry couldn’t quite tell.</p><p>He didn’t answer. Malfoy waited for a bit, as if hoping for Harry to rise the bait, and then rolled his eyes, holding his wand to him. Harry took it. It was probably the closest he’ll get to gratitude from Malfoy.</p><p>“Really, get out of here already.” Malfoy waved a hand at him and Harry frowned. He thought they’d be going to their dorm together, it was pretty late by now. “I wanted to check into the Kitchens quickly, I missed lunch.” He turned away and started to fix his robes.</p><p>Harry hesitated, opened his mouth to say something but didn’t. He turned and went for the door, looking back at the threshold. He had trouble seeing Malfoy, as he was taking the light with him but he was sure Malfoy wasn’t looking after him. Harry turned and left, leaving the door open for some light from the torches.</p><p>After an hour of lying in bed in the dorm, Harry heard the door softly opening. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Nothing changed after that. Harry had no idea why he thought it would. Really, it made sense, he couldn’t suddenly become Malfoy’s friend after helping him one more time. If anything, Harry would understand if Malfoy was pissed at him.</p><p>But he didn’t look at Harry much. Harry realised that before yesterday Malfoy had looked at him a lot because now it all felt off. They didn’t frown at each other at breakfast as usual. When they were leaving for potions and crossed ways Malfoy looked at him briefly with the most indifferent expression, just like the rest of the students near him. Harry had no idea why this felt so wrong, more so than the constant insults and scowls and smirks he was used to.</p><p>When Hermione asked him why he was frowning for the third time that day, Harry sighed and asked if she was going to the library. She gave him her usual worried-exasperated expression and nodded.</p><p>Harry was grateful she didn’t ask much. Even Ron wasn’t asking him much, he just chatted away on a neutral theme, engaged Harry in the endless rants about how unfair it was not to let eight years play Quidditch, a hot topic right now in their common room. Harry felt a vague disappointment about not being able to play in a team, but he understood why that was. Hermione told Ron the reasoning behind this decision at length, but he just waved her off fondly saying she didn’t understand Quidditch. Then they began bickering as they always did, somewhat good-naturedly and with a high risk of snogging at the end. Harry just rolled his eyes at them fondly and said nothing.</p><p>Every night Harry looked at the ceiling for hours, listening to his roommates breathe. Ron would occasionally stir and sometimes jerk awake after a nightmare. If this happened, Harry would sit up and conjure him some water with a calming charm on it. He tried not to hear Ron’s heavy breathing and occasional muttering of Fred’s name. After Ron would quickly fall asleep, Harry stared up some more, searching the shadows for something and never finding it. Waiting for the door to open.</p><p>***</p><p>Harry forgot he’d agreed to meet Hermione in the library that day. It was a Sunday and he’d spent too much time on chess with Ron. It was raining today and the common room was entirely too comfortable with the crackling fireplace. Ron had been sleepy all day, he wore a lazy smile after spending the previous evening with Hermione. They were so obvious when they spent time together, smiling at Harry more than usual afterwards. He didn’t want to think about what they were doing, really.</p><p>And now Harry was hurrying to the library because Hermione wouldn’t be at all amused if he ended up late with all the essays they should write for tomorrow, <em>honestly</em>, Harry, you should take it more seriously.</p><p>Harry smiled to himself. He thought of finding a passageway he’d used a few times as a shortcut. Some students passed in the corridors, greeting him. Harry nodded to them absentmindedly. He turned in the direction of the passageway. Its entrance was on the second floor behind a tapestry and led to the first floor with a narrow staircase. It wasn’t really popular but could be handy when one needed to get to the library fast.</p><p>Harry went down the main stairs, managing not to get the ones that felt like moving today, and rounded a corner. He got to the tapestry with a dreary Scotland landscape and moved it to the side the way he vaguely remembered it.</p><p>The door appeared and Harry went through. The passage was dark and narrow. The raw stone surrounded Harry from all sides but he ignored the uneasy feeling and moved farther, lighting his wand to see. It wasn’t a very long trip and soon Harry saw a bit of light from the other side hidden in the archway. He sighed with relief, the darkness and cold started to push down at him. Then he smelled something strange. It was barely-there trace that wasn’t one bit pleasant. Had some student left a bit of food here? Harry grimaced and quickened his steps. When he came closer to the end of the passage something caught his eye. He paused and aimed his wand slightly to the bottom of the wall. It was a dark spot. Pretty big but somewhat faded. Harry frowned and came closer.</p><p>Something sharp went through his stomach at the realisation when he looked closer. It was blood. Old, faded blood. There was a shape on the wall near the main stain. Harry thought in a strange haze that this was a print of a hand. Quite a small one. He stumbled out with such force that he hit the opposite wall, his legs instantly giving out, and he slid down to the cold floor.</p><p>He couldn’t look away from the entrance to the passage. His heart was beating so fast but he felt cold all over. There was a child… They possibly had tried to hide in the passageway. Had they been found dead already? There was a lot of old blood, so much…</p><p>Suddenly Harry couldn’t breathe. Everything he tried so hard to ignore, to push down, everything was flashing before his eyes. The dead on the floor in the Great Hall, the exploding wall right behind Fred, the faint smile on his dead face, the fiery beasts roaring in his ears, the smell of suffocating smoke, the cold light of the killing curse, his mother’s smile and the burning Sorting Hat on Neville’s head—</p><p>Screams, screams, screams. And the nothingness of death.</p><p>
  <em>‘You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself.’</em>
</p><p>He couldn’t <em>breathe</em>. He was going to vomit.</p><p>Suddenly someone was calling his name but Harry heard it as though it was from underwater. It was <em>his fault</em>, all of it and he had tried so hard to forget about it—</p><p>Someone was crouching near and calling him again. Everything was blurry and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the entrance to the passageway. <em>It was his fault.</em></p><p>That someone yanked his hand hard and Harry startled, looking at them automatically. He couldn’t see much but it was Malfoy. Harry absently thought that it was weird he was here, but felt too frozen to even blink at him. His throat was constricting dangerously and he thought he was shaking but it was hard to say. There was only one thought loud enough in his head. <em>‘It was your fault.’</em></p><p>Malfoy was saying something but Harry couldn’t understand. Then Malfoy grasped his hand and Harry felt a faint shock going through his fingertips. He realised he was clutching his wand so hard it hurt. Pity he didn’t care much.</p><p>“What, what—?” Harry heard on repeat coming from the blurry shape of Malfoy.</p><p>‘<em>Right</em>,’ Harry thought absentmindedly, <em>‘he wants to know’.</em></p><p><em>‘Let him see,</em>’ something ugly hissed in his head loudly.</p><p>Harry looked to the passageway again and felt his throat tighten and his mouth watering. He just managed to turn to the other side before he threw up.</p><p>Malfo tugged at him, steadying him and saying something. When Harry’s stomach was empty, he leaned back against the wall. Everything was cold and he couldn’t take a full inhale. He realised there had been tears streaming down his cheeks for a while because the new ones felt hot against his skin. Malfoy waved his wand and the smell of sick disappeared.</p><p>Then Harry saw him getting up and walking to the archway cautiously. He looked inside and after a moment stumbled back. Harry couldn’t see his face clearly but he assumed it was terrified. He felt a strange dark glee inside as Malfoy made a few steps and fell on his knees.</p><p>They were pathetic, both of them together. Must be quite a sight.</p><p>After a bit Malfoy looked up at Harry and there was a strange expression on his face. Harry blinked away the tears and everything became slightly more focused. Malfoy was looking at him with… Harry couldn’t really decide. Horror? Pity?</p><p>‘<em>Understanding</em>,’ something whispered in his head.</p><p>Harry felt a stab and everything went blurry again. His breath hitched again in a sob.</p><p>They were both guilty, one way or another, of letting people die.</p><p>Then Malfoy was near and holding Harry’s face. His hands shook and eyes burned.</p><p>“I know, I know, I know,” he was muttering, holding tight, “Fuck, it’s not your fucking fault, hear me? It’s not and you know it. So stop bloody crying, you’re just pathetic—”</p><p>Harry stared at him. Was he hallucinating someone else as Draco Malfoy? Because he was sure the real one wouldn’t say these things to him. The real one would’ve been cruel and smirking at the way Harry fell apart. He wouldn’t hold Harry’s wet face in his shaking hands and telling him it wasn’t his fault.</p><p>This imaginary Malfoy stood, tugging Harry up by the arm.</p><p>“Come on, Potter, Madam Pomfrey would know what—” Harry stumbled on his legs and Malfoy caught him around his middle.</p><p>Harry held on to him, Malfoy surprisingly steady on his feet. He was so warm. And Harry was freezing. Malfoy’s hands tightened around him. And it felt just like the hug from Mrs. Weasley after the night Cedric had died. It felt so good to feel someone so close and take a bit of comfort from them. Harry inhaled shakily and recognised that smell from days before. Clean and sharp and mostly <em>nothing</em>, but Harry liked it. He didn’t have any strength to deny it in his head at the moment.</p><p>After longer than necessary and absolutely not enough time in Harry’s opinion, Malfoy pulled back and, taking Harry’s arm, pulled him in the direction of the Hospital wing. Malfoy didn’t look at him once all the way down.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Harry woke up on the hospital bed some time later. He didn’t open his eyes because he wasn’t sure there was something out there beyond his head, just existing. He felt lost in a wrong time.</p><p>He tried to remember how he’d gotten here, but the only thing that came to mind was Malfoy tugging him along, not looking at him. Everything was a blur. He thought he remembered Pomfrey’s concerned face and her soothing words about some Calming Draft. Harry felt heavy now, ready to fall back asleep. He heard hushed voices nearby though, and concentrated on them.</p><p>“…didn’t do anything to him, I know. But, <em>Hermione</em>, have you seen him? I don’t remember him looking so bad since the… You know.” It was Ron’s voice.</p><p>“Yes, I do remember. But I think we should ask him when he’s awake and not make any harsh assumptions,” Hermione said.</p><p>Harry realised they were talking about him. He suddenly didn’t want to listen.</p><p>“But it’s <em>Malfoy</em> we’re talking about!” Ron sounded angry. “Do you think he helped out Harry out of the goodness of his heart?”</p><p>Hermione huffed in frustration, clearly not sure how to object to that.</p><p>Why <em>had</em> Malfoy helped him? Harry realised that Malfoy could have just as easily gone and gotten Hermione from the library nearby as soon as he’d seen Harry.</p><p>Still, Harry was glad Malfoy hadn’t. Harry was glad his two friends hadn’t seen that. It made sense that it was Malfoy, in a strange way. Harry had seen him beaten on the floor not so long ago. He fought against a humourless laugh. They were a mess, everything was a fucking mess, and everyone pretended it wasn’t. They went to classes, chatted with friends and snogged after curfew in the corridors. And all the while somewhere there was a stain of blood behind an archway.</p><p>Harry felt exhausted. He didn’t hear anyone anymore, just a faint hum of healing magic in the air. It was soothing and he fell asleep slowly one more time.</p><p> </p><p>The next time he woke up it was night. He sat up in the bed, swallowing as much air as he could and trying to erase the images of the nightmare from his mind. The spilling blood and the suffocating darkness of the passageway, scared screams of his mother pleading for him, the shut door of the cupboard under the stairs… Harry pulled his knees up to the chest, swaying a little and concentrating on breathing.</p><p>In and out, in and out, in…</p><p>There was darkness in the corners of the room, the same as under his closed eyes. He tried to look at the moonlit parts, the luminescent squares of blue falling from the big windows. It was unmoving and cool.</p><p>Harry sat for some time, trying to calm down. Eventually, he laid down and stared at the ceiling. There was no breathing of his roommates, no sound of Ron tossing in bed and Neville’s occasional muttering. Harry realised with a pang that no matter how long he would lay here with open eyes, there would be no door opening, no Malfoy coming quietly into the room and going straight for his bed. Harry instantly felt agitated.</p><p>And then angry with himself. That was just ridiculous. Since when had he started to rely on that for falling asleep? At first he’d just told himself that he was making sure Malfoy wouldn’t do anything funny like playing pranks on them as soon as they were asleep. But he couldn’t rely on that excuse anymore, it sounded ridiculous even in his head.</p><p>At some point during this month, for some reason Harry couldn’t imagine, he’d started to find comfort in Malfoy coming back for the night, and it was just so pathetic. He closed his eyes and then opened them instantly, not wanting to fall into the darkness.</p><p>It was so quiet in here. His mind jumped feverishly from the dark entrance of the passage to the ‘it’s my fault’ and then… Harry remembered shaking hands on his face and an accidental embrace and a tingling feeling of someone else’s magic under his fingers, flaming stubborn eyes and a trace of blood from the lip.</p><p>
  <em>‘It’s not your fucking fault and you know it.’</em>
</p><p>But Harry didn’t. He couldn’t forgive himself, all he did was bury it all so deep in the dark of his head and never looked there again. It was a place that no one would come to and open a door with a quiet click, letting a slim line of light through. No one could help him even if they wanted.</p><p>Harry had no idea how long he had been lying like this, unmoving and wide awake, swimming in self-pity and being angry with himself for it. But suddenly he heard the heavy main door of the hospital wing click open. Harry startled a bit, not sure if his mind was playing tricks on him. The entrance was right in his line of view so he looked in that direction, not moving. It was pitch-black in that corner but soon Harry saw a slim figure appear in the square of dim yellow light from the corridors. He thought it looked familiar and frowned.</p><p>The person entered silently and closed the doors, stepping jerkily farther in. Soon they stepped under the patch of moonlight and Harry opened his eyes wide in surprise. It was Malfoy. His sleep tousled hair gleamed in the blue light, he wore a grey set of pyjamas with a thin dark blanket over his bony shoulders. His face was a little feverish and eyes searching. He seemed not to notice that Harry was awake.</p><p>Malfoy crossed the hall to one of the empty beds in a few strides and crouched over the bedside table. Harry heard glass bottles clinking.</p><p>What the hell was going on? Had Malfoy come here to steal a potion?</p><p>Harry didn’t moved though, he was supposed to be asleep anyway and what was his concern even if Malfoy had come here to steal medicines? Harry would tell Madam Pomfrey in the morning if it was something important.</p><p>Malfoy evidently found what he was looking for and stood, sighing. He was a couple of beds down from Harry’s, right in the blue light. He looked pale and haunted with sweat faintly glistening on his forehead, the hand uncapping a potion was shaking. He downed it fast and placed the empty bottle on the bedside table.</p><p>Then he stood for a while, breathing deep with closed eyes. Malfoy was all blue-grey and almost glowing for some reason, so far from the darkness under Harry’s eyelids. Harry watched him as he just stood there some feet away.</p><p>Then Malfoy opened his eyes and looked at Harry slowly. Harry startled but Malfoy didn’t look surprised at all, regarding him thoughtfully. Harry had no idea if he could see him being awake because Harry’s bed was hidden in a shadow. Malfoy didn’t meet his eyes though and Harry took it as a good sign.</p><p>For a moment Malfoy looked at him with an unreadable expression. Then he turned to him and made a step, hesitated, turned away, cursed and looked in Harry’s direction again. After another handful of seconds he made his way to Harry’s bed quickly. Harry lowered his eyelids to appear sleeping, his heart racing and thoughts confused. He still saw Malfoy coming near.</p><p>He slowed at the edge of Harry’s bed, stopping awkwardly. Harry now could hear his breathing. Then Malfoy raised a hand and reached for Harry. Harry’s breath hitched. But Malfoy hesitated and his hand hung halfway to Harry’s arm. He breathed deep in and pulled it back to his side, closing his eyes for a second. The tension seemed to escape his sharp shoulders.</p><p>In the next moment he lowered to his knees by the bed. Harry tried very hard not to flinch in surprise. Malfoy’s face was closer to Harry’s now and he could see such an open expression he was taken aback. His brows were furrowed and mouth turned down at the edges, pale skin contrasting to the shadows. He opened his mouth slightly.</p><p>“There’s a fire dragon behind us,” he whispered. “It will burn me alive, I can feel it close, breathing with smoke. I want it closer.”</p><p>Harry suppressed a shudder. Malfoy’s voice was so quiet, Harry was half sure it was in his head. And he could feel the burn of the memory behind his neck as well.</p><p>“I’m a dragon as well, you know.” Malfoy smiled a little, eyes glistening. “You shouldn’t have saved me.”</p><p>‘<em>Draco</em>,’ Harry wanted to say, to object, to whisper, but he couldn’t. ‘<em>Dragons die from Fiendfyre.’</em></p><p>Draco was silent, looking at Harry as though waiting for him to say something. Then he lowered his head and just sat there for a while on the floor.</p><p>Harry wanted some light to keep the darkness away and Malfoy was afraid of fire.</p><p>Eventually, Malfoy stood and moved to the bed closest to Harry’s, lowering himself onto it. Harry half watched him close his eyes, feeling a displaced longing to touch tingling in his fingertips. He realised how tired he was.</p><p>And now he could sleep.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Harry woke up slowly to the bright sun shining in his face. He grimaced and turned away, but the comfort was lost and he opened his eyes. They felt puffy and heavy so he blinked a few times. Everything was bathed in bright morning October light, making already mostly white surroundings blindingly so. Harry supposed it was early.</p><p>On the bed next to his slept Draco Malfoy, just as light as everything else. He was breathing steadily, facing Harry on his side. His grey pyjamas and darker grey blanket contrasted against pale skin and almost white hair. Harry noticed the way his mouth was slack, open just a bit, and maybe he even drooled in his sleep. Harry tried to tell himself he found it disgusting.</p><p>He tore his eyes away with some effort. He needed his head clear. That thing yesterday had messed up his thoughts and then Malfoy came and made everything worse. Harry felt like thinking hurt.</p><p>He stared at the light spilling from the windows. Some dust was lazily flowing in it, as though stuck in honey. Harry watched and listened to Malfoy’s breathing. Floating particles danced slowly to Malfoy and back, disappearing as soon as they left the light. They were hesitant to get lost in his white tossed hair and steady breath, and Harry understood them just fine. It wasn’t any good to get tangled in another person. In Malfoy. The glowing particles, though, seemed to be drawn to him nonetheless. To him and back, and then again in slow floaty movements.</p><p>Malfoy wore grey and black, his family was tangled in dark magic, Voldemort lived in his house, he aimed Harry’s wand at Harry, but… It was the hair, really, the skin and light eyes, blue veins barely visible underneath the skin of his wrists. Malfoy was light, for some reason. No matter how shitty Malfoy made himself act, Harry saw much more darkness and threat within his own self. That silly light Harry wanted so desperately seemed to catch on Malfoy so easily.</p><p>After a while of Harry definitely not staring at Malfoy, the patch of light moved and fell right in Malfoy’s face. Harry had a moment to notice how his eyelashes seemed to glow white under it before Malfoy stirred, grimacing slightly, and then opened his eyes. Harry’s heart caught and he looked at the door to Pomfrey’s cabinet. He still saw as Malfoy blinked a few times, rubbed at his eyes and undoubtedly looked in Harry’s direction. Harry felt his cheeks go warm.</p><p>There was a silence for a few moments and then Harry heard a sigh and Malfoy sat up in bed.</p><p>“Good morning to you as well, Potter,” he murmured, stretching.</p><p>Harry glanced for a moment and got caught by the view of a small patch of white stomach illuminated by the sharp square of light. It was glowing, as well as some strands of light hair that were tossed around uncharacteristically for Malfoy. It was strangely, inexplicably… endearing. Harry tore his eyes away in horror.</p><p>Then Madam Pomfrey’s door clicked open and she appeared, briskly awake and wearing her usual uniform. Harry sat up as she noticed them. He waited for a look of surprise and maybe outrage on seeing Malfoy there. But she just acknowledged him and Harry with a nod.</p><p>“Good morning, boys.” She walked to their beds. “Mr. Potter, I hope you’re better? Mr. Malfoy.”</p><p>Harry opened his mouth to say that yeah, he was fine, but something caught in his throat. He cleared it and tried again, but nothing came. He wasn’t fine, he realised. And he couldn’t get his bloody throat to work to say that he was iI was an easy thing to say, so easy. Pomfrey was looking at him.</p><p>He nodded. That was much better than speaking. She appeared satisfied and nodded in return.</p><p>“Good, I don’t see any reason for you to stay here any longer, I’ll give you some calming potions for sleep and you’ll be ready to go.” She turned to Malfoy. “I presume you’re out of the calming draught I gave you earlier?”</p><p>Harry looked at Malfoy and saw him tear his gaze from Harry to look at Madam Pomfrey.</p><p>“Yeah, sorry I came in the middle of the night, that panic attack was nasty.” He wrinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair. Harry paused at the unfamiliar term.</p><p>“It’s fine, I’ll give you both some then.” She paused, looking at Harry again. “Mr. Potter, you look confused. Any questions?”</p><p>Harry glanced from Malfoy to her and then back, because Malfoy was looking at him. ‘<em>What’s a panic attack?</em>’ He wanted to ask, but his throat wouldn’t comply. He frowned.</p><p>“Do you know what a panic attack is, Potter?” Malfoy asked suddenly, a serious expression on his face. Harry was actually a bit grateful and shook his head. Malfoy nodded. “Yesterday. You had one.”</p><p>Harry blinked and looked at Madam Pomfrey, still in confusion. He had? She nodded, looking sad.</p><p>“By the sound of it, yes. Basically, a panic attack is a sudden overwhelming sense of fear that has no physical cause. Everyone experiences it differently, but overall, you can feel a faster heartbeat, difficulty breathing, dizziness or nausea and other symptoms.” She searched his face, sympathy in her eyes.</p><p>Harry couldn’t fully process this new information. There was a name to the thing he felt? It was apparently a medical thing with symptoms. Was he sick? Would it happen again? Harry felt a wave of fear wash over him at the possibility. He looked at Malfoy again, alarmed.</p><p>‘<em>That panic attack was nasty,</em>’ he’d said, and it sounded as though he’d had many.</p><p>Malfoy smirked at him bitterly. “Ah, I’ve got the honour of welcoming the Saviour himself to the wonderful world of panic attacks, how lovely. Yes, you’ll probably have more, although they can be rare. Not all of them are as bad as yours yesterday though. I’ve had many and only a few like that. Usually it’s just a feeling of intense anxiety.” He finished with another smirk.</p><p>Harry stared. He actually wanted to learn more. How did Malfoy deal with these attacks, why had Harry never known they were a thing, why did Malfoy get them a lot?</p><p>Madam Pomfrey was nodding. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy, thank you.” Harry turned to her, and she shook her head at Malfoy disapprovingly but good-naturedly, then smiled at Harry. “It’s ok, with the calming potion I’ll give you it’s not going to be that bad. You can also use it to fall asleep easier. Although, please, no more than three days in a row, this potion can be a bit addictive.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As soon as he walked into the common room alone (Malfoy said he wanted to talk to Madam Pomfrey more) he saw Ron and Hermione sitting together closely on a couch, deep in conversation. A couple of Ravenclaw girls were chatting on the other side of the common room. It was relatively early Monday morning and breakfast hadn’t started yet. The room seemed quite cozy with the light streaming in from the circle of glass in the ceiling. Hermione noticed Harry and leaped to her feet.</p><p>“Harry!” She was before him in a moment, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, feeling better from her familiar embrace. She leaned back and looked him in the eye. “Are you all right?”</p><p>Harry didn’t even try this time and gave the most reassuring nod he could master. Ron came up behind Hermione.</p><p>“Damn mate, that was scary as hell. We thought something awful had happened.” He sounded concerned and a touch suspicious. Harry felt a small wave of frustration. Hadn’t that been ‘awful’ enough? He dismissed the thought. Ron probably didn’t want to mean it like that.</p><p>Hermione looked him in the eyes, searching.</p><p>“Harry, Malfoy told us where to look and… We’re so sorry you saw that.” Tears swelled in her eyes and Harry felt something snap closed in his chest. He didn’t want to hear about it or see it ever again. He couldn’t stand to see Hermione’s tears. He looked away.</p><p>“Oh, Harry—“</p><p>She choked and hugged him again. Harry felt like she was trying to seek some comfort from him this time rather than giving it to him, and he suddenly felt so tired. Harry hugged her back this time anyway, it wasn’t fair to her.</p><p>When they parted, Hermione wiped her eyes quickly and gave him a tentative smile. He tried to smile back.</p><p>“We’ll… we understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” she told him, glancing at Ron, who nodded. “Want to go to breakfast?”</p><p>Harry was so grateful, he felt his shoulders fall in relief. He honestly <em>was</em> pretty hungry. He nodded again and they went to the Great Hall.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Harry should have known it will be like that. During the next few days Ron and Hermione were looking at him in this sympathetic way, they talked tentatively and helped with everything.</p><p>Hermione had even given him her homework to copy without a word. Ron was constantly acting awkward and Harry clearly saw he didn’t know what to say. And all of that was so akin to pity, he wanted to shake them. Yes, he didn't want to talk, but <em>honestly</em>...!</p><p>So he kept rolling his eyes in exasperation at both of them and waited for them to act normal again.</p><p>He didn’t expect that to get even worse after a few days.</p><p>Harry was spending breakfast as usual: staring at Draco Malfoy and trying not to notice anything about him (he failed, of course). Malfoy had been avoiding him the past few days and was now sitting with his back to the Gryffindor table. Harry still found the brisk morning light illuminating his hair quite fascinating.</p><p>Suddenly Hermione knocked over her goblet of juice, and Harry startled. She squeaked and drew her wand to vanish the mess. Harry looked at her. Not that he hadn’t noticed,z but she was a mess today, hair more wild than ever and a lost look on her face. He frowned, concern blooming in his chest.</p><p>“Sorry, Harry, you okay?” she muttered after tucking the wand away. He frowned.</p><p>Harry wanted to ask if she was okay, but the now familiar tightness of his throat that appeared every time he thought about speaking wouldn’t let him. He frowned and nodded.</p><p>When she sighed and averted her eyes, grimacing, Harry’s frown deepened.</p><p>“Harry— You, you’re not cursed are you?” she asked suddenly, quiet and still not looking at him. At Harry’s other side, Ron listened intently. Harry blinked a few times and shook his head, looking at each of them in turn. Ron was frowning suspiciously and Hermione’s eyes were desperate.</p><p>“Then… I’m sorry, Harry, I know we told you we'd understand if you didn’t want to talk about what happened, but…” Hermione continued and Harry stiffened, his heartbeat quickening. “Harry, you don’t talk at all! And we’re worried, Ron and I, we’re really worried about you.” Ron was nodding seriously. “We— I don’t want to push you, but you have to understand, it’s hard, not being able to talk to you…” She broke off, brown eyes shining.</p><p>Harry felt something heavy in his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, to reassure his friends (he could speak, he had no problem speaking when he was alone), he wanted to say that it was fine and they shouldn’t worry and he was <em>fine</em>. The choking feeling was back with new force, and after a few seconds of silent gaping he felt like he was suffocating. Hermione was looking at him hopefully and it was torture. He really could, he could do it, they meant so much to him and…</p><p>He stood abruptly, gasping for air, and turned to the exit from the Hall. Ron and Hermione both called after him, but he couldn’t take more of that. Of Hermione’s pleading eyes and Ron’s confused but loyal expression, as though he was waiting for Harry to confess that he had been attacked or something. Fuck, Harry couldn’t take it.</p><p>As he exited the Great Hall, he let his legs carry him wherever they felt like. He didn’t care if he missed Potions. Slughorn would probably forgive him, as he seemed to have taken his fondness for Harry this year to a whole new level. So far he hadn’t had much trouble in classes, most professors were giving him some time as well and hadn’t questioned his silence. But McGonagall’s look told him the leniency wouldn't last forever. His throat constricted again and he walked faster.</p><p>It wasn’t his bloody fault he couldn’t force himself to talk.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Ron and Hermione took him to Madam Pomfrey the next morning. The previous day they let him be, though he’d felt their concerned glances all the time. When after an awkward breakfast Hermione raised to her feet swiftly and took Harry’s arm, he didn’t resist. When he realised they were going to the Hospital Wing, he merely sighed but let her tug him along, Ron by his side with a serious expression.</p><p>Madam Pomfrey glanced up at them from the bedside of a small girl who wore a pained expression. Pomfrey murmured something to her reassuringly and walked to them.</p><p>“Has something happened?” she asked, as professional as ever.</p><p>“Ah, Madam Pomfrey, you see— Harry, he— We want to be as supportive as we can but…” Hermione struggled and Ron stepped forward.</p><p>“He won’t talk,” he said simply.</p><p>Madam Pomfrey looked at Harry with surprise.</p><p>“At all?” she asked, perplexed, and motioned them to one of the beds.</p><p>“Yes.” Hermione seemed more collected. She glanced at Harry, frowning. “We’re just worried, Harry. You hadn’t talked much before and now…” She looked back at Madam Pomfrey. “Could it be an illness, Madam Pomfrey?”</p><p>Harry stiffened. He wanted to object, to say that there wasn’t anything wrong with him. But he remembered the talk about panic attacks and he already knew there was something wrong with him. He’d known for a while. He didn’t want to hear a confirmation.</p><p>“Ah, I believe a mind healer would be more of value here. That’s not my area of healing, not exactly, Ms Granger, but…” Pomfrey looked at Harry in question and he realised she wanted to tell them about panic attacks. He didn’t like the idea much but he supposed there was nothing for it. He nodded. “We already discussed with Mr Potter his panic attack earlier, I believe you know what it is?” Hermione nodded, while Ron looked confused. She glanced at him and mouthed ‘later’ just as Madam Pomfrey continued. “It was a serious one and I can’t say I’m not concerned. I can’t give you a diagnosis, but I already contacted an acquaintance of mine who specialises in mind healing and she should be here in a week.”</p><p>Harry stiffened. He didn’t want to have a mind healer sent just because he had a small panic attck for fuck’s sake. Madam Pomfrey seemed to understand.</p><p>“Mr Potter, she won’t be arriving just on your behalf, you have to understand. We had a chat with Headmistress McGonagall and she decided it would be good to have therapy available for any student in light of recent events… You just made us notice and act on it.” She smiled.</p><p>Harry was relieved at that. But he remembered how apparently Malfoy had had many panic attacks and how he’d run out of the Calming Draft Madam Pomfrey gave him… And there Harry was, everyone going crazy with worry because of him while Malfoy didn’t have anyone to worry about him. He felt a little ashamed that he was so annoyed with his friends for fussing over him. How many students were there whose struggles went unnoticed? Harry felt sick.</p><p>Madam Pomfrey was telling Hermione something.</p><p>“…more time. It’s the best you can do, more time and patience and everything will be fine.” She smiled reassuringly at them and Hermione nodded violently. Harry felt a wave of affection for her. Ron looked just as serious and determined.</p><p>Harry was grateful for his friends.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Harry simply couldn’t stand his friends.</p><p>“Harry, do you need any help with your homework?”</p><p>“Harry, mate, we can just play chess, maybe this time I’ll win.”</p><p>“Harry, are you sleeping fine? I can ask Madam Pomfrey for more calming potion, you look gloomy today.”</p><p>“Harry— Harry, where are you going? Harry!”</p><p>He stormed out of the common room. It had been four days and he was going mad. Ron and Hermione treated him as if he would break any time they spoke too harsh or let Ron beat him in chess. Harry scoffed under his breath. The look of pity in their eyes reminded him every time that something was wrong with him, and he hated this feeling. He just wanted to be normal again.</p><p>As he was making his way through the corridors out of the castle, he caught some glances and whispers behind his back. Everyone pretty much knew by this point. He wanted to scratch his skin clean of those stares. His best option was to be alone for a while. He found that he liked to walk for some time in the rare autumn sun on the Hogwarts grounds beside the lake. It was calming and nobody looked at him with pity.</p><p>He made his way out and into the cool evening air. The sun was just beginning to set and the sky was slightly pink on the west side. He breathed deeply and went out onto the grounds that were mostly deserted at this hour.</p><p>Some birds were making a distant conversation, Harry listened to them sing. The wind rustled softly through the trees surrounding the lake, making some leaves take off.</p><p>“Some of you are hurrying,” Harry whispered to the trees. His throat felt strange, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken out loud.</p><p>Harry sighed, drew his wand and cast a warming charm at himself. He shivered with pleasure and sat on the ground. His mind went pleasantly blank as he watched the trees whispering and the surface of the vast lake shimmering, catching the last sunlight. Harry closed his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>‘There’s a fire dragon behind us.’</em>
</p><p>The birds sang something to each other from opposite sides of the lake, something quick and light, echoing in the air. They could fly to be closer.</p><p>
  <em>‘It will burn me alive, I can feel it close, breathing with smoke.’</em>
</p><p>The water licked the shore hesitantly, swaying back and forth, back and forth with the smallest of waves. It was cool and dark.</p><p>
  <em>‘I want it closer.’</em>
</p><p>Trees were losing their leaves too soon, shaking them off impatiently, trying to breathe in some cool air.</p><p>Harry heard steps behind him. He opened his eyes but didn’t turn. The steps hesitated and then moved to him confidently. As they reached Harry’s side, Harry looked to his right and up.</p><p>Draco Malfoy stood there, looking at Harry. Harry wasn’t surprised.</p><p>For some time, they looked at each other. The setting sun coloured Malfoy’s hair slightly pink and gold. The sharp shadows made his nose and chin look even more pointed than normal. There was a slight line at the side of his mouth, as if he smirked entirely too much to one side.</p><p>“You know, Potter,” he said abruptly. “The sunset today is early.”</p><p>Harry looked at the setting sun. From this position he could see only pink traces on the sky behind the trees. He wondered if it had settled yet. Malfoy sat at his side.</p><p>“This autumn is surprisingly warm so far, isn’t it?” he murmured. “I always preferred the autumns of Wiltshire rather than how it is here. The sun there lasts longer. I remember it being warm till the second half of October.”</p><p>Harry looked at the lake, so light still with the reflection of the sky.</p><p>“I remember the fields rolling as far as the eye could see, green and all soft-looking. Never liked them much, though. One time Mother took me to see the stars in the middle of the field and I got dizzy looking at the sky, it was so vast and high, I felt like I was losing the ground underfoot.” Malfoy smirked. “I got scared by the night sky, Potter. And I’m named after a fucking constellation.”</p><p>Harry closed his eyes, trying to imagine a smaller Malfoy looking at the stars and getting lost in the height, up and up, so far no one could imagine going, and being scared of that. Harry smiled in spite of himself. It made sense. Harry had been scared of small places when he was a child.</p><p>They sat in silence for a bit, but Harry didn’t think Malfoy was waiting for an answer. It didn’t feel like it, and Harry liked the feeling. The last light of the settled sun was starting to dissolve and he felt a chilly wind through the warming charm.</p><p>“I heard you aren’t talking,” Malfoy said abruptly and Harry turned to him. His brows were slightly furrowed and he wasn’t looking at Harry.</p><p>After a bit Malfoy shrugged. “I always found you talking annoying though, so it’s fine.”</p><p>He shot a look at Harry and smirked softly to one side, right where the little line was. His eyes seemed even darker now, Harry never noticed them being this dark.</p><p>“Anyway, so I actually like the night sky now, I’m not afraid of it.” Malfoy looked away from Harry and started talking again. “I mean, what idiot would be scared of that? I’m actually taking Astronomy as a NEWT this year, I could draw a map of all the constellations in my sleep for fuck’s sake. Did you know the brightest star in my constellation is called Eltanin? A nice name if you ask me. Also…”</p><p>The sky was turning a blue-grey shade now, cold and low above their heads but Harry wasn’t hurrying back to the castle.</p><p>Harry learned two things that evening: the brightest star in the Draco constellation was called Eltanin and Draco Malfoy talked a lot.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>They kept finding each other. Harry had no idea how Malfoy was doing it, because Harry was simply looking for the most isolated places. Maybe they had the same idea. Harry hadn’t seen Malfoy beaten again but he saw once how some students were whispering as he walked down the corridor with telling scowls on their faces. And so they kept spending time either walking on the grounds or in the abandoned classrooms.</p><p>They would meet and Malfoy would begin to talk as though he didn’t need Harry there and just liked the sound of his own voice. He chatted about nonsense most of the time: a strange dream he had once as a child, his timetable or McGonagall’s wardrobe he found weirdly interesting (‘Tartan, Potter, <em>tartan</em>!’), the recent potion he learned about in<em> ‘Potions Weekly’</em> that apparently had a ‘novel’ use of Valerian Sprigs, the list went on and on.</p><p>Harry really didn’t mind. He supposed he should have found it annoying, as Malfoy didn’t have the nicest voice, he sometimes got so excited his voice went pitchy, he loved bad impressions (Harry told himself he didn’t find them funny, not one bit) and he had a very high opinion of himself but… He hadn’t insulted the people Harry cared about for some reason, hadn’t insulted anyone much for that matter. He just, well, talked about details and things that didn’t really matter. And of himself, of course.</p><p>Sometimes he would ask Harry something like, “Potter, have you noticed the new garden in the Middle Courtyard?” Harry hadn’t. “Of course you haven’t, you’re such an inattentive oaf sometimes, really. There’s some Blue Flyeating Heather and it’s so fascinating!”</p><p>Ron and Hermione were still walking on eggshells around him. Harry finally decided he needed to do at least something. He went with Hermione to the library and wrote her a note. He had trouble picking the words but eventually handed it to her.</p><p>‘Hermione,</p><p>I’m <em><span class="u">fine</span></em>. I really, really am. <strike>I just need to— I need—</strike> I appreciate yours and Ron’s worry, you mean <strike>a lot</strike> the world to me! I just feel like you’re waiting for something I can’t give. At least not yet. <strike>Even if I wanted</strike> Please don’t pity me, you know <strike>I ha</strike> don’t like this. Please tell Ron everything’s fine because I won’t be writing sappy notes to him as well.</p><p>Love, Harry’</p><p>Hermione ended up hugging him so tight he could hardly breathe. And even if she did cry she didn’t give it away (much) and Harry was grateful. He loved his friends but he couldn’t shake off a feeling that he was causing too much unnecessary worry for them. He wished he would listen to Malfoy talk about everything but Harry instead.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Harry stopped at the door to their room. He was just going in for the night, wandering later than usual. He was in a better mood after the walk in the night air, had evening listening to Malfoy, who had apparently started his project in Potions and was intent on developing his own novel draught. He wouldn’t shut up about the wonders of Porcupine quills (at Harry’s blank stare he sighed dramatically, “<em>Elixir to Induce Euphoria</em>, <em>Cure for Boils,</em> Potter, and oh have you heard of, I don't know, the <em>Draught of Peace</em>? Honestly…”). After they parted, Harry had spent some time alone.</p><p>And now he heard someone arguing in their room. <em>Ron</em>.</p><p>“… don’t trust you, you know that?” he was saying with such spite Harry frowned.</p><p>Someone on the receiving end snorted, and Harry shivered with a guess.</p><p>“Spare me your pathetic revelations, Weasel.” Harry froze at the sound of Malfoy’s voice. It was so different from what Harry heard just an hour or so ago.</p><p>“Fuck you, Malfoy. Tell me what you’ve done to him or I swear I—” Ron choked off. Harry could imagine his friend being red from fury.</p><p>“You’ll what? Curse me? Or punch me in the face?” Harry heard another sarcastic snort. “Try me, you waste of—”</p><p>Harry opened the door, and they immediately turned to him. Ron’s wand was in his hand and Malfoy had a look of cold fury melting into surprise when he looked at Harry. Ron’s expression flicked with concern but he didn’t lower his wand.</p><p>“Harry!” he exclaimed and threw a weary glance at Malfoy. “I don’t know why you won’t tell me what he’s done, but it’s fine, now it’s the two of us and—” He scowled darkly at Malfoy, shifting to Harry while still facing him with a raised wand.</p><p>Anger flared in Harry. Ron thought he was doing this for his sake, but Harry couldn’t help but suspect that Ron was finally spilling out years of hatred. It made something shift deep in his stomach.</p><p>
  <em>‘I got scared by the night sky, Potter’</em>
</p><p>Harry took a few steps forward, noticing a look of brief confusion flash across Malfoy’s face. Then Harry turned and stood between them, stepping in front of Draco and facing Ron, trying to communicate with a frown how he felt. Ron’s wand wavered and he lowered it, opening his mouth slightly in shock.</p><p>“Harry?” he asked, confused. “What are you doing?” His eyes flickered to Malfoy behind Harry’s back.</p><p>Harry shook his head, retrieved his wand and wrote two words in the air.</p><p>
  <em>‘He helped’</em>
</p><p>Ron stared in disbelief and Harry heard Draco breathe in sharply. Harry felt like they both had a lot of questions and a pang of guilt went through him at the thought that he couldn’t give them. He doubted that, even if he spoke to Ron, he would be able to explain what was happening with Malfoy. They seemed to be making some kind of… friendship?</p><p>Ron frowned but hid his wand in the pocket and nodded, still looking a bit suspicious.</p><p>“Okay, if you say so, Harry,” he said. Then looked at Malfoy with narrowed eyes. “Don’t expect any gratitude from me, though, Ferret.”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes at that but stepped away, glancing at Draco. He was watching Harry with an unreadable expression. Something akin to…wonder? He didn’t pay Ron any attention. Harry felt strangely flustered and looked away.</p><p>As they prepared for the night an almost palpable tension hung in the air. Harry could tell Ron was confused and annoyed at the new revelations. Harry sent him a sheepish smile. Malfoy didn’t really look at Harry, he went out of the door and returned at the usual ungodly hour. Harry felt him hesitate near Harry’s bed (Harry never closed the curtains for the night, it was too dark that way). Harry heard him sigh so quietly Harry half-suspected the sound wasn’t real.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The mind healer came on the next Tuesday. McGonagall fetched Harry after Defence and told him to follow. They went in the direction of the Hospital Wing and Harry frowned.</p><p>“You have nothing to worry about, Mr Potter, believe me,” McGonagall told him in her stern but unusually soft tone. She always spoke like that to Harry lately.</p><p>They stopped at the door next to the Hospital entrance, Harry had never been there but he reckoned it was some kind of personal quarters. He glanced at McGonagall.</p><p>“The mind healer arrived some time ago and would like to talk to you,” she informed him. “The session will be for about an hour.”</p><p>Harry felt nervous all of a sudden. Would he have to speak? They would probably talk about the war. Harry felt slightly dizzy.</p><p>“Mr Potter,” McGonagall called him and he turned to look at her. “You don’t have to speak if you find yourself unable to. It’s going to be fine.”</p><p>She smiled reassuringly and knocked at the door. Harry took a breath and after a bit the door opened. The woman standing there looked about the age of Madam Pomfrey, with light hair collected in a tight bun and big round glasses. She looked at Harry and smiled, wrinkles appearing around her light blue eyes. She had a nice smile, Harry decided.</p><p>“Headmistress McGonagall! You’ve brought… Mr Potter, I assume?” She said with a widening smile and a calm pleasant voice. Harry glanced at McGonagall and then nodded.</p><p>“Yes, please, I hope you have a good visit, Mrs Wright,” She said.</p><p>“Most certainly, thank you!” Mrs Wright answered and opened the door wider to let Harry come in.</p><p>With a last glance at McGonagall, he went inside, looking around. The room was well-lit and broad, done in woody colours. There was a big desk with two chairs opposite each other. Some things were floating out of bags and finding a right place to settle.</p><p>“I’m sorry for the mess, Mr Potter, I’m afraid I haven’t yet unpacked everything, it will be done in a second.” She walked past him, weaving her wand to levitate a stack of books and send them neatly onto the shelves. She then turned to Harry and smiled apologetically. He hesitantly smiled back.</p><p>“Would you like some tea maybe?” Mrs Wright asked. A tray floated to her and steaming tea poured itself into the two cups. Harry shook his head. Mrs Wright nodded and gestured at the chair opposite hers. “Please sit, Mr Potter.”</p><p>Harry complied, feeling a touch awkward. She settled in her chair and took some papers lying there, quickly skimming them. Then Mrs Wright raised her eyes to him and smiled, slightly more professional this time, and there weren’t wrinkles around her eyes.</p><p>“So, my name is Lynda Wright, I’m a mind healer at St Mungo’s but often work on the continent. I studied Muggle Psychology after my graduation from Hogwarts.” She paused, looking around with a somewhat melancholic look to her eyes. “It’s good to be back.”</p><p>Harry gaped at her for a second. Muggle Psychology? He remembered a talk about stitches from ages ago when they first visited Mr Weasley in St Mungo’s in his fifth year. Was muggle medicine more wide-spread than he knew?</p><p>Mrs Wright seemed to sense his confusion and smiled again.</p><p>“I’m Muggleborn, you see, I always was interested in Psychology. For some time I lived mostly in the Muggle world, although I always loved magic.” Harry couldn’t help but understand what she meant. He glanced at all the things still arranging themselves around the room.</p><p>“Yes, indeed,” she laughed a little and Harry decided he liked her. “Okay now that you know a bit about me, let’s begin.”</p><p>Harry nodded, feeling weary again.</p><p>“I’m aware of your circumstances,” she said, and Harry looked away. “And you won’t have to speak until you’re comfortable doing so. For now, I just want to tell you about something that can help you understand what’s happening.”</p><p>Harry felt interest in spite of himself, looking at her again. Mrs Wright leaned back in her seat and offered him another smile.</p><p>“Mr Potter, do you know anything about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Harry walked in the late sun that gave more blinding light than it did warmth, looking at the trees in the distance and at the yellowish grass under his feet. Draco walked at his side, unusually silent today. Harry knew it had been Draco’s first session with Mrs Wright today. Harry so far had had two. He’d learned a lot about PTSD and Reactive mutism and had trouble placing all of that on himself. But… It felt better than not knowing, anyway. And he was determined to speak again soon for the sake of Ron and Hermione.</p><p>He looked at Draco sideways, finding him already staring at Harry. Harry stumbled a bit, something catching in his throat. He felt annoyed with himself. That was happening more and more often. Malfoy looked away, frowning a little.</p><p>“You know, it’s not that bad that you don’t talk,” he said. Harry realised he was referring to what Ron had said to Harry the previous evening. <em>‘I hope these sessions will work soon,’</em> Ron’d said.</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes, breathing out a huff. As long as he didn’t talk, Draco had all the time to listen to his own voice. Draco shot him an annoyed glance.</p><p>“Well, dragons don’t talk, do they,” he said and Harry looked at him pointedly. Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, okay I do. But you can be one as well, if you want. With the condition that I’d be a cooler one of course. I’ll speak with fire.” He hissed threateningly and Harry snorted again.</p><p>Draco looked at him, not impressed.</p><p>“We’ll see who’s laughing in the end, Potter,” he sneered and Harry laughed some more.</p><p>They walked for a while in silence and the chilly weather. Draco stopped abruptly with a curious expression on his face. Harry stopped as well, glancing at him in question.</p><p>“Harry,” Draco said suddenly, with surprise. “I guess you’re ‘Harry’ now, aren’t you. That’s strange. Harry.” He looked thoughtful but kind of pleased.</p><p>Harry stared. Something hot rushed over him at the sound of his name. It really shouldn’t have sounded so new when Malfoy said it, he heard his name all the time. Hermione said it constantly, with concern most of the time, or sympathy or exasperation. Ron said it with delight or excitement or alarm. But Draco never called him Harry of all things and now it felt strangely intimate to hear that. His name sounded almost tender, Harry realised.</p><p>He let out a sigh, still staring. Draco was looking at him, frowning.</p><p>He was ‘Draco’ now for Harry as well, had been for a while and Harry hadn’t even noticed.</p><p>When Draco opened his mouth to say something, Harry leaned in and kissed him. He liked when Draco talked, but this was better. He felt warm all over in spite of the cold wind. Draco leaned in and kissed back with a quiet moan, Harry felt another hot wave rushing through and curling somewhere in his stomach at the feeling of Draco’s tentative tongue.</p><p>Harry leaned back a little bit and smiled. Draco smiled back and kissed him again. For the first time in a while Harry couldn’t talk because of something pleasant.</p><p>Trees whispered at them from the distance and the sun was beginning to turn orange, everything went warm under Harry’s closed lids. He’d forgotten that under his closed eyes there could be light too.</p>
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